


A Quiet Storm Heralds the New Day

by entertheinferno



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Like, M/M, Tons of Them, and i use the cheesiest line ever to end the fic, author is an incredible tagger, i just have a lot of feelings about that hug that happened, i mean it's very very vague, in which domestic sam and cas is definitely the cutest thing, post 9x11, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-23
Updated: 2014-01-23
Packaged: 2018-01-09 17:32:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1148860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entertheinferno/pseuds/entertheinferno
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post 9x11 fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Quiet Storm Heralds the New Day

**Author's Note:**

> I am so happy with the last episode gosh.   
> Never gonna get over any part of it whatsoever at all nope.  
> Anyway, Sam and Cas hugged, I screamed a lot, this happened.
> 
> Comments are love please be kind thank you.  
> I'm shit at titles so like, sorry for that

It's quiet in the bunker without Dean.

He takes up so much space, and it feels strange to walk through the halls and not bump shoulders with him. To walk into an empty kitchen, no half eaten sandwiches or room temperature beers left out on the counter.

The bunker was something that was going to be theirs, and Sam figures, yeah, when (if, his mind supplies, helpfully) Dean comes back it will be theirs, and Cas's too, if he stays this time (and Sam tries to ignore the ache that thought leaves deep in the pit of his stomach) but right now it's empty and echoing and it doesn't feel like home, it feels like a broken husk and Sam hates it.

Castiel is around, always, and Dean really never exaggerated his whole personal space issue.

He's better than he was before, definitely, but he's always _there_.

It's kind of, weird, really. He's such a small dude, comparatively, and he takes up practically no space and yet there's no way to forget that he's there.

His room is spotless, most of the time at least, and sometimes Sam will come home from whatever he was doing, visiting the library, looking for quick hunts to take his mind off of everything, whatever, and the only sign of Cas will be an open jar of peanut butter of half a slice of cold pizza on a plate left out on the table.

Cas refuses to stop eating, despite the fact that he complains about not liking the sensation of being able to taste every single molecule. Sam teases him about it the first few times but let's it go once he notices the steely look Cas gets, the way the blue of his eyes glint, harsh and sad in the fluorescent lights that illuminate the bunker.

They don't talk about it, just like they don't really talk about what Cas said to Sam when he healed him the rest of the way, or the fact that Sam keeps checking his phone, as if there'll be a missed call from Dean that came in the few minutes between the last time he checked it, but Sam's pretty sure Cas misses being human more than he lets on.

He's picked up on their bad habits though, so they don't talk about it. They don't talk about how empty Sam feels inside, how he wants to do something, wants to go out, sacrifice himself for the greater good _again_  even though he knows it's never going to balance out the scales. Don't talk about the fact that Cas would never, ever let him. Not anymore.

They've both changed a lot since the first time they met, Sam thinks, and it's weird to see it reflected now, during the dull, domestic hours that fill most of their days without Dean, while they try and figure out how to track Gadreel.

Sam misses Kevin, hates that his hands are the ones that killed him, hates that he never got to apologize.

No one ever lies when they say that siding with the Winchesters is a bad idea. All they do is leave death in their wake. It's all Sam does and he's never going to be able to get away from it.

After a while it gets to be too much to deal with.

Usually he has Dean to push and push, press him in all the right spots, force him into a corner until Sam has to talk about it, until he explodes with all the things he needs to say.

But he doesn't have Dean because they've locked each other out again and Sam's not ready to press the call button on his phone, not yet.

Unfortunately that means he's left to his own devices, has to deal with the roiling guilt and the drifting memories that aren't his that riddle his thoughts 24/7. He's stopped sleeping, can't push away the nightmares that lurk behind his eyelids.

He knows Cas notices, sees him out of the corner of his eye, watching.

He's like a rumpled bird, sitting high up on a telephone wire and trying to figure out how the people below him work.

Eventually he starts making tea. Chamomile and Chai, weird loose tea leafs he buys, leaves them to steep for ages before passing the warm mugs to Sam.

Cas isn't really great at the whole "getting people to talk about their feelings" but no Winchester is, really, and Sam appreciates that. Plus Cas always overfills their mugs, adds jut a little too much milk and it's exactly how Sam likes it.

The quiet is nicer than shouting and harsh words and it's nicer when he's got someone to share in it.

\- - -

 

He doesn't even notice the first time Cas makes him drift off, keeps the nightmares at bay so he can actually get some rest.

When he wakes up the first time it's to Cas sitting cross legged at the end of his bed, a heavy book resting in his lap, head perched on his hand.

He kind of feels like he should be mad, like Cas doing this for him should feel like a violation, and he knows it is, but the exhaustion is seeping from his bones and Cas is the closest thing to family he's got right now and he can't bring himself to be too mad.

"Watcha readin' Cas?"

Castiel blinks, looks kind of surprised, which, paired with the 5 o'clock shadow and the tired eyes reminds Sam of undergrads he's seen at the coffee shop in town. Cas is oddly pretty like this, all sloping curves and soft corners and Sam wants to reach out and trace the bow of his mouth with his fingers, cup the curve of Cas's jaw in his hand again, feel Cas exhale against his palm, wants to hold Cas against him again, firm and real and there and it's abrupt and overwhelming and a bit of a realization, which he shakes off when Cas starts talking, voice rough from disuse.

"I found it on the shelf. It's called The Fellowship of the Ring. Apparently there is also a film. I like it."

Sam huffs out a laugh and a smile creases the corners of Castiel's eyes.

"I trust you slept well?"

The laugh fades away and Cas frowns at Sam's expression, looking guilty and apologetic already and Sam rubs the back of his neck, searching for the right words.

"I- yeah, it was really great. But, look Cas, next time you go to do that, could you like, ask me?"

Cas's brow creases, head tipping to the side just slightly and it's such a familiar expression Sam can't help the smile that quirks the corner of his mouth. It takes him a moment but then realization dawns on Castiel's face and Sam is ridiculously relieved he won't have to explain why it makes him so uncomfortable.

"I understand. Promise me that you will not hesitate from asking me when you need to sleep Sam. It is no problem, I want you to be safe." It's blunt and honest, exactly what Sam's used to from Cas but it still catches him off guard. Cas is fierce and powerful and this intimidating wall of stoic grace and silence but then he opens his mouth, asks a stupid question about guinea pigs or is quietly genuine, all doey eyed and heartfelt and it's enough to make Sam want to do something drastic.

It's not the time for that though, so instead he sits up, leans forward to catch Cas in his arms, bunches the fabric of the new jacket in his fists when he hugs Cas, mumbles a thank you against his shoulder and Cas doesn't hesitate this time, remembers to wrap his arms around Sam, holds him until Sam pulls away, smiles when he shifts uncomfortably.

"You're welcome Sam. We should get dinner. I think I would like to try the Olive Garden. Their advertisements are very appealing."

\- - -

Cas's quiet presence becomes Sam's anchor, in some ways.

He knows, without even having to think about it, that if Cas weren't with him, even if he hadn't been dying inside, being here without Dean after what happened would have killed him.

He doesn't handle well, after this sort of thing but Castiel is grounding him, watching him, helping him find his way in the dark and Sam knows he never did anything to deserve a good thing like this, but he's so grateful he has it.

They talk more now, in between everything else.

They go on a few local hunts, just a poltergeist two towns over and a starving ghoul in the next state. Cas makes Sam show him how to shoot a gun, rides in the passenger of the ridiculous car he picked up from god knows where.

He's actually pretty good to have on hunts. He's got a terrible aim, which Sam finds pretty amusing, but he's methodical and careful and Sam doesn't have to worry about him charging in and doing something reckless, risking both their necks.

Plus he compromises on the music, and they spend the drive home from the hunt with the ghoul scanning local stations and discussing the merits of different subgenres of punk rock, which is a topic Sam hasn't thought about since his rebel days in highschool, running away from their motel rooms and adopting stray dogs.

The more Sam initiates conversation, the more Cas starts doing it on his own.

They move past the stilted, formal small talk quickly, and Cas starts walking into whatever room Sam is in just to let him know that he's "-just remembered that I once encountered a creature that was an ancestor to Cephalopods that had 16 arms and was patterned similarly to a surgeon fish." Before turning and going back to whatever it is he was doing before.

They're comfortable and Sam keeps waiting for something awful to happen but it's not coming.

Cas is just Cas, full of strange habits and a love for medium rare meat, and Sam is having a hard time wrapping his head around the normalcy of it all.

It's worse when the desire to wrap his hands around Cas slim waist, to pull him in by the lapels of the borrowed plaid shirt, keeps distracting him from everything.

He wants to hod onto Cas, keep him close so he can't fly away but he knows he can't deserve something like this. Not yet. Not after everything.

So instead he just listens to Cas wax poetic about lost literature and the contributions of Shakespeare in what he's seen of contemporary writing and Sam smiles and nods and laughs like he's not sitting on the edge of his seat, expecting disaster to strike any second.

\- - -

Life goes on, the world doesn't end.

Dean calls Sam and tells him what happened with Cain, that he's going to figure out how to kill Abaddon, that he doesn't want Sam with him.

It's probably one of the most honest conversations they've had with each other in a long time and they actually talk about the shit they've been holding to their chests.

It's pretty damn cathartic and Sam doesn't even feel bad when he gets choked up because he can tell he's not the only one.

He gives Cas the phone too, watches the way he frowns and nods at the phone like Dean can see him, hears snatches of words, "be careful's" and "watch out for him for me will you?"

Cas just nods and hums in response, tells Dean to be careful too, smiles at whatever Dean says back before passing the phone to Sam.

"Y'know he likes you a lot. You two are the same stuff." Dean grumbles, once Sam has assured him Cas is no longer in the room.

Sam laughs, runs a hand through his hair, pretends like he doesn't understand that even more than he'd like to.

"Yeah, I know."

"Be careful with him. He was my angel first, can't have you breaking all the hand me downs."

"You're the one who let him go."

He can hear the sad smile in Dean's voice and Sam wishes more than anything that this wasn't them. That they could've had normal lives. That they did't always fall for the same things, that they weren't so goddamn similar. He wants more than anything for them both to be happy and he knows deep down they still can't have that.

"I'm sorry Dean."

"S'okay Sammy. It's not your fault."

Sam sighs into the receiver, rests his head on the backboard of his bed.

"It's not your fault either."

Dean is quiet and Sam wishes, for the first time, that Benny hadn't died. It's an abrupt realization and before he can say anything, ask Dean about it, because he never did, Dean's talking again. 

"Just be careful ok?" His voice is tinny and distant and Sam nods, sighs against the phone again, closes his eyes and pictures Dean's face for a minute, wishes he was there with him.

"You too. Don't- just, keep me updated. Okay?"

"I will Sammy."

"Good."

They're quiet for a bit and then there's a click and the phone blinks with the dull message telling Sam that the call has been ended and he sighs, heavier than before, but in a good way.

He pushes himself off the bed and goes to find Cas.

\- - -

He's in the library, running calloused fingertips over the dusty spines of the books, looking for nothing but searching all the same.

Sam pauses in the doorway, watches him for a minute. Decides if he's gonna do this he ought to just charge in so he does, walks up behind Cas and drapes his arms over his shoulders, pressing his chin to the top of Cas's head.

He goes stiff under Sam for a second before shifting slightly and continuing his scan of the shelves.

Sam takes that as a good sign.

"I take it Dean is alright?"

Sam shrugs, knows Cas can feel the gesture even though he can't see it.

"Yeah, I guess. He tell you about the whole deal with Crowley and Cain?"

Cas nods, pulling out a thin book with a spine so worn the title can't be read before slipping it back in place.

"Yeah."

Sam nods, feels his jaw moving against the top of Cas's head, realizes how uncomfortable it must be for him and leans back, letting his hands catch on Cas's shoulders before dropping down to his sides.

"I mean, other than that definitely coming back to bite us in the ass, he's fine."

Cas nods again, stops searching for whatever book he was trying to unearth and turns to face Sam.

"You talked for a long time." It's not a question, and Sam knows it's a chance at an out, a peace offering. A 'we don't have to talk about this but it might be good.'

"Yeah, we did. We- we've got some issues."

Cas's smile is crooked, eyebrows raised teasingly and Sam fakes a scowl.

"Oh yes, just a few."

"Shut up."

Cas just grins wider and Sam pushes his shoulder, leaning back against the book shelf behind him.

"Anyway, we talked about some stuff. It was- I feel better, I think."

"That is a good thing."

Cas doesn't phrase it like a question but Sam feels the lilt at the end of Cas's words, another way to let Sam out of something he doesn't want to talk about.

Cas is all about courtesy and concern it seems, and Sam figures maybe this once he can actually open his mouth and respond. "Yeah, it is."

Cas watches him, gaze weighted and Sam sways a little, eyes catching on Cas's face, his eyes, his mouth. It's clear they both know what's going to happen before it actually does, it's just a matter of one of them swaying that little but further.

And Sam does, stands a little straighter, leans forward and bends his head down so he can press his lips against Cas's.

Cas hums, a happy buzz that vibrates through Sam's whole body, down to his toes, and presses back firmly. His lips are chapped and smooth and new, and they kiss softly, sweet and chaste.

Sam catches Cas's hand with his, links their fingers together and he feels Cas's smile rather than sees it.

"What?" He tries to say it into Cas's mouth, doesn't want to have to stop pressing him against the wall and exploring with his tongue and his hands, all touch and taste, but he's also curious so he pulls away, presses his forehead against Cas's for a moment, repeats the question.

"This is much different then last time."

Sam laughs, confused, smiling too wide anyway.

"What do you mean?"

"Last time, when I was human, this felt much different." Sam presses their lips together again, drapes one arm around Cas's neck.

"Well what does it feel like now?" He asks finally, when he has to pull back to catch his breath and Cas's eyes are twinkling when he backs him up against the bookshelf, hands slipping into the back pockets of Sam's jeans.

"Overwhelming."


End file.
